Always
by pushtoactveit
Summary: It's the night before the revolution. Enjolras has a weight on his shoulders. Eponine has a weight on her heart.


Too Little Too Late

An Enjolras/Eponine short story

**Enjolras**

The hour was late, but he couldn't sleep. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and his mind wandered crazily with thoughts and ideas for the coming day. It had been less than an hour since the boys had split up and _Les Amis de l'ABC _had all gone home. The guns, ammo and other supplies that they would need for tomorrow had been stacked neatly in the corner of the room, a room that the ladies of the Café Musain had always reserved specifically for his group. It was _their_ room, their own little corner of the café. Their own little clubhouse, so to speak.

Tonight, as always, Enjolras had stayed behind. He was always the last to leave, always the last to say goodbye. And he always did, say goodbye that is, before walking out the back door onto the _rue des Grés _and then home to his nice warm bed. However tonight Enjolras was not thinking about sleep. Tonight his mind was centered on Lamarque's death and what that meant for their revolution. One way or another, it would all end tomorrow. Whether "it" was a reference to the establishment or to their lives, he didn't know, but of one thing he was certain. There was no going back. Tomorrow was the day.

And tomorrow seemed to be all Enjolras could think about. Even after his close friend and right-hand man, Combeferre pulled him aside before leaving that night, whispering his words of wisdom.

"Enjolras", he'd said, snuffing out the last candle, "We are all excited. Tomorrow will be a big day. But let this not be what takes you over this night. Do something for yourself. Have a drink, relax. If this is one of our final nights, let it be one for the books."

Enjolras had smiled and patted his dear friend on the shoulder, a silent acquiescence. He now sat in a chair next to the window a glass of wine in one hand and an unloaded pistol in the other. Below him was the cobble stone street of the _Place Saint-Michel_, and at this late hour it was quiet. The moon hung big in the sky and its bluish glow illuminated the surrounding buildings with an eerie light.

As Enjolras sipped lightly on his wine he saw a figure moving slowly in the distance. A boy, by the looks of it. He wore a hat tilted slightly forward and a long, ratty brown coat that hung to his feet. His steps seemed drunken but his aim was straight, suggesting more fatigue than inebriation.

As the boy wandered closer, Enjolras felt as if he'd seen him before. His profile looked familiar. Was it one of his friends, coming back to spend the evening with him? Surely they knew that Enjolras would not go home. Not tonight.

No. This boy was not of the _l'ABC_, of that he was sure. But still. He looked so familiar.

The light from the downstairs seating area of the café spilled out onto the street and like a moth to a flame, the boy walked in. Enjolras watched until he disappeared beneath him. He sipped his wine and then pursed his lips. _Where had he seen that face?_ Giving up, for the time being, Enjolras tipped back the remainder of his drink and placed the glass firmly on the table, the pistol next to the glass. He had work to do, a strategy to plan out and so little time to do it.

**Eponine**

She had always known that he did not reciprocate her feelings and it was no surprise to her that he saw her as merely a friend. So why did it hurt her so much to see him with the blonde? Why did it tear at her heart strings to see him pining for this other girl?

_Because, Eponine, he'd never been in love with anyone else before. Before today, there was always a chance for you. Always the possibility that Marius would see you as a lover instead of just a friend…_

But now, that chance was gone, blown away in the wind that smelled faintly of lilacs and soap, and Eponine felt lost and alone. But despite this, despite the pain, she still loved him. Loved him with all her heart. And it's with this heavy, love filled heart that Eponine disguised herself, donning a man's hat and a jacket, and headed out to the Café Musain. There she would wait for the boys of the _l'ABC_ and go with them to the Square to watch the funeral procession. She would be there when the revolution began. She would protect Marius with her life, if she had to.

The streets were quiet. There were a few lights squeezing out through closed shutters, but a majority of her walk was lit by the moon. As she turned the corner and headed toward the café at the end of the street, she caught a glimpse of a figure in the upstairs window. She knew that room was generally reserved for the boys so she wasn't surprised to see anyone up there, especially tonight. As she got closer she saw, clearly, that it was Enjolras. He seemed to be sitting in a chair, staring out at the street. At her. She blushed slightly.

Though her heart belonged to Marius, she had always had a slight "crush" on Enjolras. There was something about his strong and passionate demeanor (teamed with the fact that he always seemed awkward around women) that seemed to make Eponine excited. He was intimidating and that intrigued her. But she knew that he didn't reciprocate the feeling. Aside from being a revolutionary, he was also the son of very wealthy parents. And she was invisible to him.

She kept her eyes low, her face hidden mostly from his view. She didn't want Enjolras seeing her dressed like this, didn't want him knowing what her plan was. If he did, he'd probably send her home. Enjolras may have been a patriot, his true love being his country, but he was raised a gentleman and Eponine knew this. Enjolras would never allow her to fight. Of this she was certain.

As quickly as she could she slipped into the café and back toward a table at the foot of the stairs. When she was certain that no one was looking she slipped off the hat and jacket and tucked them under her chair. She was still wearing a pair of men's slacks and a button down shirt, but that didn't worry her. She was poor and only owned one dress. Because of this she was sometimes seen wearing men's clothes when her dress was dirty. This would just be one of those times.

She shook her head and tousled her hair a bit. Upstairs she could hear Enjolras walking, pacing the room and no doubt muttering to himself. She'd noticed him doing that a lot when she would show up randomly at their meetings. She'd sit in the corner, the invisible girl, Marius' little puppy, and watch as they drank and smoked and talked of revolution. Quite boring, really, but she did it for Marius. Did it to be close to him.

Tonight Marius wasn't here, and yet she felt a strange tug to go upstairs. Leaving her hat and jacket tucked beneath her chair, Eponine stood and walked toward the stairway. She looked up but could see no light, no flickers from any candles. It was dark and silent and Eponine began to wonder if she'd imagined Enjolras being there. Maybe he had gone home with the rest of them, after all.

Holding on to the bannister, she made her way up, stopping instantly when she saw Enjolras, his back to her. She was still only halfway up the staircase and she knew that if he turned around, he probably would not be able to see her. But she could see him clearly. He seemed to be staring out the window. His hands were empty and she saw the fingertips of this right hand running lightly along the windowsill. He seemed to be lost in thought and he had a deep and pensive look on his face, a look that Eponine always found attractive. Especially on him.

She'd always wondered why Enjolras had remained single all these years. It wasn't that the women found him unattractive. On the contrary, Enjolras seemed to get all sorts of attention from the fairer sex. He seemed to get approached daily and yet he never did anything about it. Truth was, Eponine had never seen Enjolras even _talk_ to a woman that wasn't a barmaid or his mother.

Standing there, staring at the handsome man inside the window, Eponine felt a flutter in her stomach. A rational girl would have chalked it up to hunger and thought nothing of it, but Eponine knew better. This was a feeling she was all too familiar with. She knew instantly that her next symptom would be sweaty palms and then a heated flush to her cheeks. Slipping her hand along the bannister, she felt the slickness of the sweat. Somehow she knew, she needed to leave now, before the flush came. Slowly she turned and headed back down the stairs, as quietly as she could. She stopped when she heard him speak.

"Eponine, is that you?"

**Enjolras**

It was the squeak that got him. A small, barely audible squeak, like that of a mouse. But in the silence of the night, it seemed to echo throughout the room and it instantly caught his attention. Quickly he turned and saw a figure standing in the staircase. At first he thought it was the boy he'd seen walk into the café earlier but then he realized that this figure had long hair. Long dark hair. Like Eponine's.

Eponine. Just the thought of her name gave him shivers.

Enjolras always been indifferent to women. Not that he'd been blind. No, he'd been attracted to the opposite sex. He noticed a pretty woman and sometimes, when he was alone with his thoughts, he enjoyed their company, so to speak. But the thought of getting lost in a woman, of becoming entrapped and ensnared physically, didn't appeal. How could you fight for your freedom and for your country when your thoughts are with someone else? That never made much sense to him.

But Eponine. She was different. There was something about her that ate at Enjolras, gnawed at his insides and drove him crazy.

"Eponine, is that you?"

He waited and watched as she slowly turned, the moonlight from outside just barely caressing her cheeks, showing a slight pink flush. Could that flush be for him?

"Enjolras, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb…"

Enjolras put his hand up to silence her and walked forward.

"You didn't. I was just lost in thought. Thinking about tomorrow. I don't suppose you've heard?"

"About Lamarque? Yes, I heard." Eponine remained in the stairwell, her hands running up and down the front of her pants. Enjolras licked his lips. He'd always liked the way she looked in men's clothes. "Marius says that you have something planned for tomorrow. Something big."

If it wasn't for the fact that Eponine would have found out anyway, with her living on the street and all, Enjolras would have been furious with Marius for babbling their plans. Instead, he nodded.

"Yes." He shuddered slightly at the thought of having to say anything else. He was definitely out of his element here and he'd never had a one-on-one conversation with Eponine, although he'd always wanted to. "Come in?"

After gesturing toward an empty chair, Enjolras walked to the back of the room and grabbed a bottle of wine and another glass. When he turned back toward the window, Eponine was seated, her hands in her lap. Enjolras drew a shakey breath and walked toward her.

"Wine?"

She nodded. "Yes, please."

After setting the glass on the table, Enjolras gently uncorked the bottle and began to pour, all the while watching Eponine from the corner of his eye. She seemed nervous and uncertain and those were two traits that he wasn't used to seeing in her. He wondered if maybe she was afraid of him, he had a way of being boorish and unpleasant, and he started to say something as he handed her the glass.

"Eponine-"

Before he could register what was happening, she was on her feet, her fingers entwined in his hair, her lips pressed tightly to his.

**Eponine**

She didn't know what compelled her to do it. Could have been the pain of officially losing Marius. Could have been the secret lust for Enjolras that she'd been hiding for so long. Could have been because she was lonely and just wanted the feel of a man in her arms. Hell, it could have been because she'd just completed her menstruation and was incredibly horny. No matter what the reason, she was doing it and there was no going back.

And what shock when Eponine realized that Enjolras was kissing her back! His hands laid to rest on her waist and his head tilted slightly, allowing their lips to align better and giving him a chance to pull her closer.

He smelled amazing, a mixture of soap and "man", something that she'd never noticed before. But then, she'd never been this close to him before now. His lips were soft and welcoming and Eponine yelped softly when she felt the slight nip of his teeth on her bottom lip and Enjolras took that yelp as an invitation for more and slipped his tongue out to caress the wound. The action nearly brought Eponine to her knees.

In a spontaneous act of bravery she brought her hands down to rest on his chest and could feel the muscles beneath her palms contracting. It only managed to make her more excited and she moaned slightly as her body responded to him and she began to push her hips into his.

And that's when he stopped her.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Enjolras gently pushed back, effectively breaking the kiss.

"Eponine-"

Eponine sighed. Repeating his earlier gesture, she put up her hand to silence him. She knew what he was going to say. Knew he was going to tell her that what they were doing was stupid. Her senses were foggy with lust and all things Enjolras, but she had enough reason in her to know that he would be right. They had no business doing what they were doing. He deserved better than the invisible girl.

She removed his hands from her shoulders and placed then gently at his side. Leaning in she kissed his cheek quickly and then turn and ran.

She fled down the stairs, two at a time and ran to the table in the corner. Grabbing her hat and jacket, she put them on quickly and ran out the front door and into the night. She stopped in the middle of the cobblestone street to adjust her jacket and tuck up her hair. She couldn't stay at the café now. Not after what just happened. She'd have to wait in the alley until the people started to arrive and then join them once the crowd got big enough.

She pulled the hat down over her eyes and was about to take off when she heard her name. She turned to see Enjolras standing at the door of the café. His hair was mussed from her fingers and his lips were swollen from the kiss. In short, he looked amazing. His gaze traveled over her clothes and she knew that he'd figured it out, that she was going to join them tomorrow. But he did not seem angry. Instead he walked toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.

Once he was close enough he leaned forward until his lips were even with her ear.

"I always saw you. Always."

Then he kissed her cheek and walked away.


End file.
